


Death Note: Ghost Of A Chance

by TowerofBabel



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Depression, Ghosts, Other, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Spirits, Suicide, Taking the time to listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowerofBabel/pseuds/TowerofBabel
Summary: L has one last chance to catch Kira. He has a plan that, if successful, will solve the case. However, before he implements it, he one additional case to solve. It's a bizarre one, whereas, he encounters a 'ghost' inside the Kira Task Force building. Why is this spirit here and what does it want?
Relationships: L/Watari | Quillsh Wammy
Kudos: 3





	Death Note: Ghost Of A Chance

* * *

"Not all who wander are lost," L said, "I read that in a poem once."

* * *

L mused to himself. Some way, somehow, Kira had returned. But now he had the secret to his power. The Death Note, and the rules were simple: Write a person's name in it and they die in forty-seconds. It was a terrible and demonic book from another world.

He couldn't believe that such a thing could exist and yet here is was in his hand as he walked the down a hall of the Kira Task Force Headquarters building flipping through its pages. There were lots of names, people he hadn't even heard of—criminals who had died in prison. A lot of them were no-name thugs. Most of the notorious criminals had been killed long ago in an initial sweep when Kira first came to power, but a lot of those names were not in the book. Was there be another book out there? It was a possibility, and frightening to think about. But could he use this notebook of death against Kira? Would a court even convict Kira? Or hear the evidence that a book can kill and that IT murdered all those people? It sounded ludicrous!

No, he would have to deal with Kira in house. Prove the book was real and then take Kira out of the picture permanently, silently. Only then will the world return back to some sanity. And he planned to retire after this case. The Kira Case would be his last. I had had thought about writing, turning his adventures and case files into another career. No one knew he was L, the master detective, other than the Kira Task Force, so settling into a life as a writer would be easy.

He stopped. He took out his phone from his back blue jeans pocket to make a call, it was a small, red flip phone with a tiny antenna, when he saw someone wandering about at the other end of the hall. He was wearing a security uniform—white shirt, black tactical pants, boots, with other items. He looked young, in his early twenties. Watari didn't hire any security for the building, it had its own AI system now after Jasper Yuta and his cohorts disabled it to get to someone inside—that someone being Light Yagami, the person who had helped put Jasper Yuta's father away for the murder of almost a dozen children with help of the NPA. 'The Butcher of Japan', they called Yomi Yuta. In the end, Jasper Yuta was killed by a heart attack along with his cohorts who took the building hostage.

He lowered the phone, cocked his head, narrowed his eyes, and asked, "May I help you?"

The security guard turned to him, albeit confused, and then approached. He bowed. "Forgive me, I seem to be lost," the young man said. "I must have got turned around."

"Not all who wander are lost," L said, "I read that in a poem once. Can I be of any help?" He asked, not asking the most obvious questions of "Who are you, and why are you here?"

The young guard smiled thinly. "My name is Pathos Hiroto and I work the night shift in this building," he said, still confused. "I've never see you around, sir. Are you new to the building?"

L tilted his head. Quite an intriguing name and juxtaposition in meaning. _Pathos" means: "Sorrow", while Hiroto means: "Big Heart"_. He slipped his phone back into his back pocket.

"I'm of the same persuasion," said L. "I've never seen you here before either." L looked at the Death Note, then glanced back at the security guard with his youthful look and seemingly pleasurable demeanour. Before he purchased the building to convert to the task force's base of operations, it used to be a commercial/corporate travel agency. He chose downtown Kanto, because this is where Kira lived—where Light Yagami lived.

"I've only been here a short time and I seem to be lost," he said, looking around again. "I have four years of university, graduated with honours with a Bachelor of Arts degree, and I hoped to use my artistic skills to draw, funny enough, manga, for a career. I pushed myself day and night, through each gruelling course and worked two jobs to pay tuition. However, due to the global recession, a low paying job was all he could muster despite a higher education."

The last global recession was only a few years ago (2008), L thought. And he was curious why the young man was telling him a seemingly life story of himself.

"It depresses me, to think, I spent tens of thousands of dollars for school, and all it got me was here. I feel kind of helpless, you know, as if my future had been ripped away from me by an unforeseen force that left me utterly defenceless," he said. "Oh, but I'm sorry. I don't mean to lay all this on you. Please don't tell my supervisor. I can't afford to lose this placement."

Supervisor? L wondered what the young man was talking about. There was no security company for the building. For the moment, he kept this to himself.

"Do you believe your life was a waste?" asked L.

The young man seemed taken aback by the question. "My mother always used to say, use your talents to be something in life, don't waste the gift that has been given to you. But please, sir—"

"Call me L," he said. L looked to the wall and saw two wire chairs standing apart in the middle of nowhere. They were the only piece of furniture in the hall with its white-washed walls and tinted windows. From the outside, the building looked like an atypical office building. But inside, there was much more to it. On this floor alone there was a movie theatre just down the hall. They sat down after L invited him. "' _Use your talents to be something in life, don't waste the gift that has been given to you'_ ," he repeated, holding the Death Note in hand, but upset down.

"That's right," the security guard said.

"How long did you say you've been here?" asked L.

"About a month, sir—I mean, L. I transferred here from a warehouse complex on the wharves."

L fiddled with the notebook, like trying to scratch an inch in his mind. He was crouched on the chair, musing again, trying to decide what was true. Was it a side effect from the Death Note? He noticed the man looking at him strangely, but didn't say anything, and perhaps didn't wish to make offence. L was glad he wasn't asked how he sat, it would take too long to explain. Besides, he knew the security guard had bigger problems.

L didn't know how to break it to the young man, so he chose a subtle approach. "May I speak with your supervisor? Don't worry, you're not in any trouble."

Confused, Hiroto took out the 'site' cellphone and scrolled through the contacts. As he did, L quickly glanced over the guard's shoulder, everything was blank. His theory was honing true.

L sighed. "You won't get through," he said, as Hiroto began the call someone.

Hiroto looked at him confused. There was dead silence, not even a ringing from the phone. "We must be in some sort of 'dead zone', an area with no signal strength," said Hiroto.

L sighed again. "How long have you been here?" he asked again. L couldn't explain a sudden sensation. He felt a deep sorrow, as he sat next to this guard. It was like a dark cloud had engulfed him in an unending sinking, depressive blackhole.

"I was assigned here a month ago," Hiroto answered back. "I've already told you."

"That's not what I mean. I meant, how long have you been here?"

"I just told you!"

Hiroto stood up. He was beginning to get upset.

L got to his feet. "Remain here for a moment," he insisted. "I need to make a call." He then ventured out of earshot, but left the young security guard in his line of eye. He took out his phone from his back pocket again and flipped it open, then dialled. He spoke to Watari and asked him who had managed the building before and if there was any unusual irregularities. He nodded, when he was told of one such event that was horrific.

"I see…" L said. "And the building was left vacant for a couple of years before we purchased it?" Watari said yes. "…No, nothing's wrong. I just had a few thoughts running through my mind." L looked at the young security guard. "You can see me, correct? Am I alone?" Watari seemed to pause, but said yes. "Thank you."

L ended the call and returned back to the security officer.

L's expression was serendipitous. "Curious, you don't know. Yes, how could you? There are theories of it happening, but I never once thought it was possible?" L circled the young man. "Remarkable," he then said, looking the man up and down in his uniform. He turned over the Death Note, looked at the cover. "It must be this book. It must give me the extraordinary ability to see you, however that may be. Perhaps simulating a part of my cerebral cortex so I can see beyond the realm of my normal perception. Or, I could just be overly stressed?"

"What are you talking about?" Hiroto cocked his head. "You're not making sense, sir."

L cupped his chin in fascination. "I've come across a lot of unusual things in my career as a detective, and the case I'm currently undertaking is one of them, but you are certainly in the top five. I don't exactly know the correct term for it, but I believe it's a form of deja-vu, when memories loop to repeat the same patterns and events—and just before an event happened. It's so traumatic, the guilt of what happened, that you blocked it out, and merely playback, repeat, up to that point only. But this building has change over the last five years, so I can understand your confusion. I've rarely been down this corridor, only once, in fact, so that's why we have never met before. And you have not appeared on any of the CCTV monitors. So, Watari hasn't seen you either. And yet, here you are, as solid as any person. Truly remarkable!"

"You're not making any sense."

"Neither does this, but it must have something to do with my close proximity to the Death Note, triggering my cerebral cortex at a time when my brain is attempting to open up to new possibilities of understanding about truly unremarkable events."

"The Death Note? What's that?"

"It's a book of death that has a set of rules to follow. It allows me to see residual apparitions. But I don't believe you're a Shinigami."

"A Shinigami? A ghost? Now you're just talking crazy."

"You're dead, Pathos Hiroto," L finally said cold and blunt. "Dead as a door knob, like Charles Dickens once wrote to describe one of his characters in 'A Christmas Carol'."

Hiroto laughed. "Is this some lame April Fool's joke?"

L didn't laugh. "It's closer to Autumn and I'm serious," said L. "The police came and there was an investigation."

"Stop it. That's not funny!"

"Your body was found in one of the underground parking mechanical rooms."

Hiroto snorted angry. "Who put up to this?"

L shook his head. "You're totally unaware of it, aren't you?"

"Of what?"

"That you're dead."

"I said stop it! I'm calling my head office and reporting you!" Hiroto went to dial the number, but stopped, and remembered that his cell didn't work. "Give me your phone!" he demanded.

L extended his hand with the phone. "It won't do you any good," he said.

"Stop it, please! This isn't funny anymore."

"Tragic deaths are never a laughing matter," L replied sympathetically. "Watari told me everything about what occurred here five years ago."

"I'm not dead! Stop saying that!" Hiroto reached for the phone, but shockingly his hand passed straight through it like some ghostly phantom. He looked at his hand, which had not become transparent. "What the—"

"The dead cannot touch what exists in the living," L explained. "Your corporal form isn't anchored to this world anymore, you are an ethereal being, who keeps repeating the same events up to a certain point because you can't bare to fact of the truth of what you did."

Hiroto continued to stare at his hand in disbelief. He stammered, "B-but I just finished opening the front doors with my keys and used the elevator. The site cell was working when I arrived for my shift only an hour ago. The got lost and I'm confused. That's all! This is all a prank."

"Your energy is subconsciously projecting your actions because you've trained yourself to accomplish certain tasks at certain times, but now, after this, your mind will finally awaken to a new reality," said L. "I have a friend who believes in spirits. He'll be fascinated to examine this notebook. This Death Note belongs to a Shinigami. I was wandering the hall of the building thinking about something regarding it when I ran into you. You must have a strong connection to this place or you wouldn't still be here. The last place you remember being alive."

"No! It's not true! Oh god! W-what happened?"

"From what I heard, you committed suicide."

Anxiety and fear flushed Hiroto's face, L saw. "No, I I would never…I'm not capable…things weren't that bad?" Hiroto looked at L sternly. "Wait a minute, if I'm dead, how come you can see me? People can't see ghosts!"

L signed saddened. "You've already forgotten, haven't you?" He held up the Death Note. "Your mind can't comprehend it. It's too painful. I'm not an expert, but I do know I thing or two about emotional anguish. I lost a good friend once and he died on his birthday. Depression can be a very painful thing to carry around, Pathos Hiroto, and it can consume even the bravest person."

Hiroto blinked shocked. "I—I don't know what to believe? How could I do this?" He looked at his hands. "No!" He got angry, then sad, and L saw tears begin form in Hiroto's ears. "How long?"

"Five years," said L, "according to what I was told."

"B-but I just came to work…I clearly remember taking the bus here like I always do…and meeting the maintenance worker to let me in?"

"There's been no security here since the building became vacant over five years ago, a commercial tourist agency," L said. "It may have been a coincidence that your death and the company leaving coincided. But you have been here all this time, and still on duty protecting it. Commendable, and wish to thank you for your service." He purposely held back on saying, coldly, "And your services will no longer be required," knowing how it may anger Hiroto, to the point he may be convert into a poltergeist, a malicious spirit, that have been known to commit acts of violence when they are confronted with a hardening truth or something that dislike.

Hiroto shook his head. "No, I clearly remember things. I saw no evidence of suicide in the mechanical rooms when I checked them a few minutes ago. They all looked clean. I then took the elevator up here…"

L paused, allowing Hiroto a moment of reflection. "You see what you want to see. To you, the event hasn't happened yet, and won't. In your case, you re-enact events up to a certain point and then loop back unaware of what has transpired. Your mind is unable to process the event. You're in denial and you're haunting this building repeating the same events without end."

Hiroto staggered slightly feeling faint. He wanted to grab a hold of something. "How?" Hiroto's voiced choked up. "How did I do it?"

"With a knife to your wrists," L revealed with regret. "According to police reports," L went on, "investigators also found a journal with entries of how depressed you had become and how over-stressed and financially taxed you were."

"I have problems like the next guy, but it hardly justifies suicide," Hiroto said skeptically.

L's brow furrowed. "Who are you trying to convince?"

Hiroto's shoulders slumped and his eyes suddenly sunk dark with grief. He looked like he wanted to cry. "I can't believe it." He put his hands to his face trying to hold back tears.

"Depression can be overwhelming if left untreated, even in short term. It can be caused by many factors including stress. But mainly, it's caused by a severe chemical imbalance of serotonin in the brain that can lead to suicidal thoughts, even if there is no family history of mental illness."

Hiroto removed his hands. "I'm dead, I'm really dead…" Hiroto looked just above L's head. "What are those numbers above your head? And I can see your real name."

L had heard about this from Rem, the Shinigami. A god of death can see a person's name hovering above their head and numbers that foretold their lifespan. If converted to human-numbers, it can tell when a person as to die.

L put a finger to his lips. "Keep it to yourself please. I use the pseudonym 'L' for a reason. You died before the advert of Kira, the owner of his nasty notebook." He briefly explained the events of Kira, and how he, L, had become the head of the task force to apprehend the villain who killed with simply a name and a face.

"This Kira sounds like a real bastard."

"Indeed, he is," replied L.

Hiroto cocked his head. "The numbers are changing now," he said, "and are converging. I can see—It's a date. Oh my god!" He told L exact what it said.

L sighed, eyes down. "I was afraid of such," he said sombrely. "I planned on testing the notebook. Watari is setting up the details now." Hiroto suddenly shivered. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I feel very cold all of a sudden."

L saw his breath just then. "Like in the presence of a spirit," he said. "A sudden temperature drop in an otherwise tempered room indicates paranormal activity, but normally only in the presence of an unhappy or trapped spirit. Theory states, once the spirit fully acknowledges its own death, and why it died, hopefully then, it can pass on peacefully."

Hiroto extended his arms out to L showing the underside and across each wrist was a vertical slit intersecting the veins. "I thought about it, but I never thought I would ever do it."

"I know the reality of depression, Hiroto. Unlike you, a friend of mine survived her attempt. And with help from her family and friends, she no longer tries." L gave Hiroto an indulgent smile. "Sometimes life can be unbearable with issues in the world today. We live in a stressful society. But a friend can be a lifesaver even when you believe its too late. But it's never too late." L extended a hand. "I'm not a psychiatrist, Hiroto, but sometimes all a person needs is someone who will listen. Not to sound pedantic, but everyone deserves a ghost of a chance."

Hiroto nodded slowly with a thin smile. "I thought my problems were my own and I didn't want to burden anyone with them…" he started to explain.

"I often feel the same way, but I have Watari to help me get through these dark times—and others who live elsewhere. I also find alternatives from feeling depressed. I've seen so much in my career that I need release sometimes. And I also stuff my face with sweets, comfort food. It also helps that I have a very high metabolism."

Hiroto signed deeply. "I felt like a disappointment to my family," he reflected. "I took this job to pay the bills, never once thinking of it to be a career, hoping one day I'd get my chance to use all the education I paid for. But when the recession hit and the economy collapsed (years ago, judging from the year above your head), no one would hire me, especially some kid fresh out of university with no practical experience. This job was all I had to cling to. In four years, I never once asked anyone for help, even when the bills began mounting. I told myself that I could do everything on my own. But after a while, I realized the futility of it all. The economy wasn't getting any better and I couldn't see a way out of my predicament. So…"

"Sometimes asking for help is the hardest thing to do," L admitted, reflecting on his own experiences with depression. "There's a lot of negative stigma attached to mental health issues. No one wants to admit they are depressed, or talk about it, afraid of being ridiculed, scorned or shunned. But millions of people suffer from depression everyday. You're not alone. Unfortunately, you fell through the cracks."

Hiroto began to cry, then wiped tears from his eyes with his hands. "So what now? I'm dead, it's over," he said austerely. "Am I to wander the halls of this building forever?"

L shook his head. "Not even close." He then returned to the chair in the corridor and got up into a crouch. "Forget everything around us, Pathos Hiroto. It's just you and me now; nothing else matters. I'm here to listen, for as long as it takes." He smiled broadly. "Let's talk."

Hiroto sat down beside L. But the first thing he asked of L was, "Why do you sit that way?"

"I don't this way because I want to, I have to. Because if I don't sit this way, then my deductive reasoning skills will be reduced by roughly by 40%," said L. "I need to know the truth behind Kira and I need to use all the tools I have to capture him. But Kira can wait. Let's talk about you…"

* * *

Later, and with the heartfelt feeling in his heart that he had had helped the poor young man finally move on and in dealing with his grief and sorrow—Pathos Hiroto had thanked L and then disappeared like an evaporated mist—L slipped the Death Note into the back of his jeans and went to the secondary epi-centre of the building.

Inside, sat his mentor, and adopted father—Watari, in front of a bank of monitors and a large computer panel. Here, he could monitor everything within the building.

L stood there with an introspective look on his face for a moment, as Watari turned in his chair. He looked at the old man and gave the smallest of smiles, almost non-visible, but he felt unhappy inside. In fact, after what he had learned from Pathos Hiroto, he was afraid of the future—or what he had left to enjoy of it. Was he truly going to die today?

Watari looked at him curiously. "Ryuzaki, what's wrong?"

"Watari," he began, "please know I have always—" He shook his head. Uncharacteristically, he walked over, leaned down and hugged the man. Watari embraced him.

"Ryuzaki, what is all this? You've never showed affection like this to me before, or to anyone."

"I know. Attachments can weigh on a person's judgements. But, when it comes to you, I would never remain so cold. I love you, Qullish. Please know that. If something goes wrong with this case, whatever it may be, I wanted you to know this. You've raised me like your own son after I lost my parents, and I wanted to thank you, very much!" L stood back up, and wiped a tear from his right eye. "I'm a person who deals with absolutes. But this case confounds me. The impossible idea that a supernatural book that can kill and that Shinigami exist truly frightens me. This will be my last case. I wanted you to know this. Retirement sounds like paradise after this."

"I figured so," said Watari. "This case scares me, as well. In all my days, I have never experienced such a thing." Watari cleared his throat. "I have made the preparations for the Death Note to be tested, a prisoner has agreed to write his name on a page of the notebook in an isolated location. The official test will be conducted later on today."

"I'll inform the task force myself. And Qullish…Watari…"

"Yes, I know. If something happens go wrong in this case, I will make sure all the case information is erased, so 'Kira' doesn't get his hands on it. And Ryuzaki…Louis, I love you, too."

"Thank you," L said, and went to leave. Watari returned to his duties.

The minute L left the room, however, and door to the second epi-centre shut, L paused in thought. If he was going to die, he wanted to hear them one last time, even if they were only the church bells from a chapel near by. He left, and went up to the roof. It was pouring rain. Notwithstanding, he stepped out into onslaught and raised his face into the rage of the storm.

He could hear them through he rain—church bells, from somewhere. Soft, but he could hear them. Sadly, however, he may have been imagining them from his youth, the bells on the chapel from his orphanage in Winchester, England, at Wammy House—owned and operator by Qullish himself. He had created a home for countless orphans around the world that needed a home. Although, it did have a stipulation. It was an orphanage for only gifted and bright children. Some called it unfair, even discriminatory in the media, but it was just a home to L.

"Every time a church bell rings an angel gets their wings," he remembered this from a movie, paraphrasing it from the gentle pronouns. And he hoped, one day, he could get his wings.

Even if there was slim chance of coming out of this fight with Kira alive, he wanted no regrets. He needed—wanted—to pray for a miracle. He needed to expose Kira for the crimes against Humanity he had committed—if it was the last thing he ever did.

He knew, eventually, he could come across a villain who could very well beat him. He once had, in friend—during the BB Murder Case. But he had overcome the odds, and just barely.

He had solved so many cases in his career as a master detective. But The Kira Case was a case that was well beyond his scope of analytical understanding.

But he was 99.9% sure who Kira was. And he hoped what he had planned to test his theory would expose the man for what he truly was—a crazy serial killer. If it was successful, the case would be solved, and the special provisional rule that a person must keep writing down names in the Death Note or be killed will be rendered a lie.

That would mean there could be no doubt that Kira was standing amongst the Kira Task Force.

_I will expose you, Kira! Even if I only get a ghost of a chance!_

END


End file.
